


Just a Taste

by WingSongHalo



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, I just wanted to have the only fic tagged potato casserole, Licking, M/M, Tongues, baking cakes, does that count as a fetish???, gay epiphanies, potato casserole
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 07:27:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/684390
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WingSongHalo/pseuds/WingSongHalo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Karkat’s tongue touches you, it’s totally by accident.</p><p>Happy Valentine's Day, Johnkat shippers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just a Taste

**Author's Note:**

> I woke up on Sunday morning and the first sentence of this fic just kind of fell into my head. I sat bolt upright and proclaimed, "I must write this."  
> And so I did.  
> And it was good.
> 
> In other news, this is the most suggestive thing I've ever written and it's not even dirty. It is the most shameless of all fluff.

The first time Karkat’s tongue touches you, it’s totally by accident.

You are baking a cake (hey, just because you don’t like them doesn’t mean you can’t make them for everyone else) to celebrate one month of reuniting on the meteor, and the wooden spatula is covered with cake batter. It is chocolate, because seriously, who doesn’t like chocolate cake? (You are the answer. It’s you.)

You extend the spatula to Karkat, who is your Baking Buddy (he does not approve of this moniker, which is why you might be continuing to use it in the first place—hehehe) and is leaning against the counter, arms crossed and looking surly, drowning in one of his baggy turtlenecks as usual. He raises one eyebrow at the wooden utensil like its existence annoys him. 

“You’re supposed to lick it,” you tell him knowledgeably. 

“Like fuck I’m going to lick that,” he says, narrowing his eyes at the spatula like he’s caught on to its nefarious plan to poison him. “Doesn’t that batter have raw cluckbeast eggs in it?”

“Psh,” you say, by way of explanation. “It’s fiiiiiiiine. People eat raw batter all the time!” You waggle the spatula at him enticingly. He glares at you. Some drops of chocolate batter drip to the floor from your waggling.

“Fine,” he spits, grabbing the spatula handle and yanking your hand toward himself. He licks at the head of the spoon, and you grin as you see a brief look of pleased surprise cross his face at the delicious taste (well, delicious to everyone but you). The gray tongue flicks out quickly, licking up all the chocolate, and you think it looks a little like watching a kitten drink from a fountain. Karkat frequently reminds you of kittens. You are not sure why.

There is a stray dribble of chocolate that runs down the handle. By the time he’s reached it, unwilling to let any of the treat go to waste, the drop has run all the way down the handle, and Karkat’s tongue licks it up just at the point where the handle meets your hand. You freeze in place. A shock of surprise races down your spine.

Karkat’s tongue is rough, like a cat’s, and is just moist enough that you can feel where it flicked over your skin, the spot becoming cooler when the air hits it. You feel your cheeks coloring slightly as your pal finishes licking the utensil clean and releases the spatula handle.

“That was surprisingly not gag-inducing,” he says approvingly, swiping his tongue over his dark lips instead, and you’re brought back to your senses at the sound of his voice. He’s looking at you with just a hint of a smile, and you respond with a huge grin, awkwardness forgotten.

“Wait ‘til you taste the final result!” you say, turning to pour the batter into the pan.  
\-----

You do not think about Karkat’s tongue at all after that. Why would you? You have more important things to do than think about the texture and temperature of your best troll buddy’s lingual muscle. Seriously. You probably would have gone the rest of your life without ever thinking about Karkat’s tongue again had you not pricked your finger.

You have invited Karkat over while you try to fix a tear in your God Tier hoodie. Jade has been trying to teach you to sew, but you are not really very good at it. It would be unbearably boring if Karkat wasn’t here, sitting across from you on the floor and ranting about all the ways troll Will Smith is better than human Will Smith. Your needle weaves in and out of the blue fabric: over, under, over, under… 

“Thirdly, troll Will Smith is capable of a wide variety of roles, whether dramatic or comedic. His part in The Thresh Prince is in stark contrast with his serious character in—”

“ _Ow!_ ” you interject. 

“What the fuck, John. I was on a roll there.”

“Sorry, I just…I pricked my finger again.” You show him your index finger sheepishly. Blood is rapidly beading on the tip. He leans forward and squints at it. He does not look impressed with your manly sewing wound.

“You’re such a grub, Egbert,” he growls, seizing your hand and licking away the drop of blood. He releases your hand and continues talking about troll Will Smith, but you’re not really listening. You’re staring at him, wide-eyed in shock and pink dusting your cheeks, trying to figure out why in the world you’d almost shuddered at the feel of Karkat’s tongue flicking over your skin.  
\-----

The third time Karkat Vantas licks you is a week later. It is your turn to make dinner for everyone, and since you are more of a baker than a cook, you have forced Karkat to be your Cooking Compatriot (Karkat refuses to accept this title, too) and read you the recipe while you bustle away at the oven. It hasn’t been easy finding a dish palatable to both trolls and humans (though trolls were far more willing to eat human food than the other way around), and to be honest, you are not really sure if this dish is going to be palatable to anyone. Right now it looks a little like an orange fungus you might find on a tree.

“I’m not going to eat that,” Karkat says, wrinkling his nose. “It looks like it’s already been eaten. It looks like it has been chewed up, choked down, left to fester in a half-digested slurry for a while, and then forcefully expelled again from both ends.”

“Ew, Karkat,” you complain, frowning at him. You sigh, looking down at the unattractive potato casserole. You surreptitiously stick a finger in near the corner and take a taste. It is cold and runny on the inside. “Maybe if I just pop it in the microwave for a little while, it’ll firm up,” you reason, sticking the dish into the microwave (the trolls call it a nutriment radiation box) and pressing a few buttons. You watch it spin around. Lacking anything better to do, Karkat joins you. The top of the casserole is bubbling ominously.

“Now it looks like _it_ is going to eat _us,_ ” Karkat mutters. You shoosh him.

The microwave beeps, and you carefully remove the casserole (with protective oven mitts of course!). It is still wobbling in an angry sort of way. You remove one of your oven mitts and prod it curiously with a finger, and—

_SPLORT._

Suddenly there is more casserole on you than in the pan. You sweep a hand across your eyes to clear your vision and blink casserole-covered eyelashes. Your apron is splattered with orange. Karkat is laughing openly behind you, clutching the counter to keep from falling over. You do not think you have ever seen him laughing so hard. Every time you think he’s laughed himself out, wheezing a bit and straightening back up, he looks at you and cracks up all over again. You would be angry, except that Karkat’s laugh is really infectious, and pretty soon you’re cracking up right along with him. He hands you a dishtowel, still giggling in a sort of breathless way (probably because his ribs—do trolls have ribs?—are hurting). You scrub it over your face and left arm. There’s a bit on your neck, so you swipe a finger through it and bring it to your mouth. It actually is not all that bad anymore!

“Karkat, I think the secret is to explode it. It tastes awesome now.”

Karkat raises an eyebrow at you in that same sardonic way, but he’s still smiling. “Excuse me if I find it hard to believe that a meal that bubbles like toxic sewage and then explodes is in any way edible.” 

"No, dude, I’m serious!” you say, laughing. You dig a finger into the ruined casserole and try a little more. “Mmmm,” you say encouragingly, looking at Karkat hopefully. He’s looking at you like you’ve got something on your—oh right. 

“Egbert, you should probably eat the stuff that is already on you instead of contaminating what little remains for we unfortunate few who will probably end up eating this ‘casserole’ anyway.” Regardless, he’s walking your way, and you smile wider, knowing that for all his bluster, he will at least taste your failed cooking experiment, because that is just what good friends like Karkat do.

What good friends do _not_ typically do is grab another friend’s arm, say “You didn’t even bother to clean this arm,” and then proceed to lick potato casserole from said arm. Your mouth falls open in surprise and you go red at the feel of his rough tongue licking a stripe through the orange on your forearm. Goosebumps erupt on both arms. You stare at him, your jaw gaping uselessly, as he hums thoughtfully. “You know what, as much as it pains me to say this, you may be right. Maybe the only way to make this thing edible is to make it erupt everywhere like a fucking volcano.”

Speaking of volcanos, your cheeks feel about the same temperature as lava.  
\-----

Okay, let’s get this straight. You are not a homosexual. You have never had the slightest homosexual yearning in your life. Your fantasies involve only female partners (mostly Liv Tyler). Since you were little, you have wanted to meet a nice girl and get married when you grow up. You are heterosexual as _hell._

It isn’t really your fault that you have started having dreams where Karkat is licking you, sweetly and lovingly, up your arms and chest and under your jaw. It isn’t your fault that the feel of Karkat’s tongue against your skin is the most weirdly pleasant sensation you have ever experienced. It’s not your fault that even when no tongues are involved you love being around Karkat more than anyone else and the tongue thing is just a really strange and exciting bonus. And it is especially not your fault that you can’t stop thinking about the way your best friend’s tongue against you sends a shiver through your whole body and heat down through your core. You mean, is there even a precedent for that sort of situation? You are pretty sure there isn’t, because it is not supposed to happen. But you wish it would. Frequently.

Oh god dammit you’re pretty sure that’s gay.  
\-----

After a while you convince yourself that the gay-ness of it is not important. What _is_ important is making sure it happens again. You would feel ashamed of yourself for manipulating Karkat into licking you, but you are not sure you have the ability to be ashamed anymore. You have been all shamed out. The Shame Cupboard is out of stock.

So when you make desserts, you always let Karkat lick the spatula. You do not let him see you placing a little batter on the handle near your hand. You do not let go of the spatula while Karkat licks it clean. You screw your eyes shut when the rough gray tongue brushes your skin, the sensation so light, almost ticklish, and yet sending a thrill through your whole body. You don’t mind spilling fruit drinks on your hands anymore, you do not mind cleaning them off again, and you especially do not mind leaving a small bit on the back of one hand so Karkat will scowl at you, inform you of your negligence, and take care of the problem himself, muttering about how he has to take care of you like he’s your fucking lusus. You love that it never occurs to him to get it with his finger, or just scrub it off you with a towel or napkin, or merely point it out to you to fix it. He always has to use his tongue. He rolls his eyes and grumbles. But he always swoops in and flicks his tongue over you anyway. It is almost like he knows that’s what you want. But that’s ridiculous. Because you are totally being subtle about this. And it is not even a thing, really. It’s not a big deal. Nope.

And then one day the cake batter (“How many fucking cakes do we _need,_ Egbert?! There are enough ways to die in this goddamned game without you trying to kill us by overfeeding us. I know it says ‘Death by Chocolate’ but I am pretty fucking sure that is not to be taken literally,” Karkat says) runs down between your fingers and Karkat grabs your hand and spreads your fingers and licks the delicate skin between them and oh god your whole body is on fire and you cannot stifle the small whimper that the sensation forces out of you. He looks up at you, raising a questioning eyebrow. Your cheeks burn and you bite your lower lip with your large front teeth in embarrassment. Karkat’s gold-and-gray eyes scan you over for a moment, but then he shrugs, releases your hand, and turns around to wash the spatula. You place a hand over your racing heart.

God dammit you are pretty sure this is a big, _big_ deal.  
\-----

You are pretty sure you are going crazy. Terezi licked you once when you first met and proclaimed you to be “blue raspberry-flavored with a regular raspberry center!” but besides feeling a little saliva-y and awkward you never thought about it again because it was just weird, not pleasant. But you cannot watch Karkat eating food anymore because every time you see his tongue you blush because you are thinking about how it feels on your skin, between your fingers, gliding up your arm. You feel the overwhelming urge to be close to him at all times, even when he is being really grumpy (that part is not all that different from before, really, but now it is even more noticeable). You shift uncomfortably in your seat when he licks his lips at dinner because you kind of wonder what it would feel like if he was licking _your_ lips and _oh god isn’t that kissing???_

For the first time (well, first time while awake, anyway), you allow yourself to imagine kissing Karkat. Would it really be that awkward, you wonder? Do his lips feel as different and strangely wonderful as his tongue? Would Karkat find the texture of your tongue as foreign-yet-pleasant as you find his? You wonder what his tongue would feel like against your tongue and _holy shit this is really gay._

Still, the thoughts keep nagging at you. Invading your dreams. Sneaking into your daydreams. Breaking you down from within. After a while, you kind of just hold up a little mental white flag and admit to yourself that yes, you maybe have (have been having for a long time only you didn’t notice it because _how were you supposed to know you’d like Karkat licking you??_ ) some gay feelings for your best buddy, and yes, you would really, really like to kiss your best buddy.

You do not know how to go about kissing Karkat Vantas. The thought of seizing Karkat Vantas suddenly and putting your mouth on his mouth is about as terrifying to you as facing Jack Noir without any weapons. Actually, you’re pretty sure you’d rather do that. You are used to fighting. You have become comfortable with fighting, even. But love is totally new territory for you. And wanting to kiss your best male friend? You are not sure if that territory is even explorable. If you put that territory on a map, you would draw a sea monster there and write “HERE THERE BE KARKAT.” You would talk to Rose or Jade or, hell, even Dave about this, but you just can’t bring yourself to. You don’t know if it’s because you’re afraid they’ll grin at you in that satisfied sort of way, or if because admitting out loud that you want to kiss Karkat will somehow make it more real. You even briefly consider consulting Kanaya. She is the only one who seems to know everything about Karkat (you have seen Gamzee exactly 1 time since arriving on the meteor), but that would just feel awkward. This is your problem. You figure it should be you who figures out a solution. 

The easiest solution is to kiss Karkat. 

God dammit again.  
\------

When you bake your third cake in one month (not to mention the batch of brownies, the cupcakes, and the muffins), you think Karkat is beginning to get suspicious (or at least annoyed). He’s watching you warily from the corner of his eye, leaning back against the counter, arms folded in front of his chest. You would be intimidated by his scowl, but that is just kind of what Karkat’s face looks like. He is a very scowly kind of guy. So you don’t let it bother you as you whirl around the kitchen, adding flour and sugar and eggs to the mixing bowl.

“I’m feeling about as useful as a stunted fifth leg on a hoofbeast over here, John,” Karkat says eventually. “Do I even need to be here?”

“Of course you do!” you assure him quickly, stirring the mixture after you add the cocoa. “Who else is going to be my Taste-Tester?” You grin at him winningly. He snorts and shuffles his feet. You know he loves taste-testing. (You love it when Karkat taste-tests too.) After you are finished stirring, you hold out the spatula to him as usual. This time, though, he yanks the spatula out of your grasp, and you look on as he licks it clean, feeling oddly bereft and disappointed. 

He notices you looking and arches an eyebrow. You are surprised his eyebrow muscles don’t cramp, they get such a workout around you. “Did you want some?” he inquires, holding out the spatula. Oh. He thinks it’s the cake batter that you are looking at so longingly. 

“Uh, nah, that’s okay, dude. It’s all yours,” you say, rubbing the back of your neck awkwardly. The troll shrugs and goes back to licking the spatula. You try really hard not to stare. Instead, you turn around and begin pouring the batter into the pan, layering it out evenly just like your dad taught you. You shake the pan a little to make sure there aren’t any air bubbles in the batter. Satisfied that the almost-cake is bubble-free, you pick it up and make your way over to the oven.

You wish what happened next had been part of your plan, but it really, honestly was not.

Your foot steps on something that feels soft under your feet, and before you know it you’re slipping, falling backwards and windmilling your arms in a way that probably looks pretty ridiculous. As if in slow-motion, you watch the pan arc through the air and flip upside down before landing with a _SPLRT._ All over you. You are covered in chocolate and you hit your head on the counter on the way down. This was not supposed to happen at all. You are supposed to be wooing Karkat, not making yourself look like an idiot in front of him. You rub the back of your head, wincing, and glance up at said troll-to-be-wooed. He is staring at you in alarm, evidently still too startled by your sudden fall to react just yet. 

He gets over it in a split second, though, and soon is leaning over you. “Are you okay?” he asks immediately, and a spark of warmth blooms in your chest to hear the concern in his voice. 

“Yeah,” you say, sitting up and cringing as you start to feel a lump developing on the back of your head. You glance down at your feet and see the culprit of your misfortune: a dish towel that has fallen onto the floor. Figures. “I guess this means no cake tonight, though,” you continue, lifting the upside-down pan from your chest (more batter glops out onto you with a feeble sort of _sblurp_ ) and putting it to the side as you lean your back against the counter.

“Fuck the cake,” Karkat says. He crouches down beside you, placing his hands on his knees. “Holy shit, John. You’ve just made great strides in the field of Professional Fuckwittery. That fall was truly spectacular. Henceforth, whenever someone slips on a banana peel, they will sequester themselves away from society to weep in bitter shame because they know they will never live up to the supreme, glorious imbecility of the fall that you have just performed.” You do not know whether to laugh or glare at him. You settle for shoving his knee a little.

“Don’t fucking shove me, John; we can’t both hold the title for Most Idiotic Fall Ever,” he says, but he’s smiling. 

You look down at your—well, the shirt used to be blue anyway. Now it is chocolate brown. You groan. “I am a mess,” you say miserably.

“And yet I continue to hang around you,” Karkat says lightly. You crack a smile at that. “Why do you think that is?” he continues, pretending to think about it and tapping a clawed finger against his chin. “Oh right,” he says. “I hold the all-important position of ‘Taste-Tester.’” His smile is lopsided, sarcastic.

Sighing, you drag a finger through the batter on your arm and hold it out to your troll buddy. “Still want to taste-test?” you ask him, and holy shit did you just wiggle your eyebrows at Karkat Vantas? 

He doesn’t yell, or freak out, or remind you that he already licked the spatula, or do anything Karkat-y at this. He just rolls his eyes, grabs your hand, brings it to his mouth, sucks the end of your index finger. You can feel his tongue wrapping around the pad, and it sends a shudder through you. You bite your lip and squirm, and a brief whine escapes you. Karkat pauses mid-lick. His eyes dart to your face. Your suddenly very very hot face. Shit. He totally heard you make that sound. Shit shit shit. You kind of wish the floor would just choose this moment to give out under you so you can escape his impassive gaze and then maybe find somewhere dark to hide for a few hours. 

But if Karkat is offended or disturbed by that (embarrassing humiliating _totally fucking uncalled-for_ ) noise you made, he doesn’t show it. He just gives your fingertip one more lick before popping it out of his mouth and releasing your hand. He continues to regard you shrewdly. You are quite certain your face is a heretofore undiscovered shade of red. His mesmerizing gold-and-gray eyes squint at you as he brings his face closer to yours. You gulp. You actually gulp. 

And then, slowly, experimentally, your palhoncho leans in and licks a trail through the chocolate up one cheek. Your back and shoulders stiffen and you bite your lip even harder to keep from making a noise (ouch that actually hurts, _fuck_ ). When he draws back, there’s something different in his eyes. They look…keener. Brighter.

Amused.

A crooked grin spreads across his face, one canine tooth poking out over his lower lip. He leans over you again and licks another streak up your other cheek, and you can’t help but let out an almost-imperceptible gasp at the feeling of the rough, moist tongue dragging across your pale human skin. Your hands are clenched in fists by your sides. Karkat keeps licking you. Each caress of his tongue makes flames dance in its wake, bolts of pure sensation running through you, electrifying you. You don’t even care that this is the most awkward thing to ever happen to you _ever_ you just want Karkat to _keep doing that._

But he doesn’t. He stops, and bends close, and his voice is a soft purr near your ear. “You know,” he says, “It’s almost like you _wanted_ me to lick you this whole time.” 

And then he licks your neck, right below your ear, where it meets your jawbone. Your hands fly to his shoulders and grab on, and you are trying to say “Karkat, don’t be ridiculous!” but all that comes out is a strangled, desperate-sounding “ _Karkat…!_ ”

He smirks at you when he draws his head back. Fucking _smirks_ at you. He brushes a strand of chocolate-covered hair away from your forehead and says quietly, “I’m not an idiot, John.” 

You realize Karkat probably knew about your dumb little obsession all along. You realize that Karkat was probably repeatedly licking you on purpose. You realize you are most definitely 100% gay for Karkat. You realize all of these things in about five seconds as you look up at his stupid, smug, wonderful face.

And then you fling a hand up to grab the back of your co-friendleader’s head and pull him down to you and you kiss Karkat Vantas without even really thinking about it. His muffled grunt of surprise is his only response before he’s leaning into you, one arm on either side of you, and returning your (very hasty amateurish probably sloppy first) kiss.

His lips are a lot softer than his tongue. His teeth are not. “Fuck, sorry,” he says when his canine tooth slices your bottom lip. You just shake your head in response and pull him back down. His tongue darts out to lick at the sore spot and then to taste the batter at the corner of your mouth, and your fingers clench on the back of his head a little tighter, sinking into his rough hair. The other hand is still curled into the fabric on Karkat’s shoulder, as if preventing his escape. Then he’s licking along the seam of your lips and you let him in and holy shit his tongue feels really weird and interesting against your tongue, licking the side of your much smoother one curiously and rasping against the underside. Shivering tingles of sensation run up and down your entire body and your heart races at a somewhat alarming rate.

You don’t even care that you can taste the (cloying disgusting too-sweet) batter on his tongue because _Karkat is kissing you and his tongue is in your mouth._ You are not sure if this is really happening. Stupidly, you pull back for a moment, panting, searching his face wildly with your eyes. “Is this really happening? Is this real?!” you blurt. 

His answer is to place one hand on your batter-streaked cheek and lick the chocolate above your mouth away before pulling back to look at you. His eyes are soft, which you didn’t know Karkat’s eyes could be. “Tastes real to me, idiot,” he says.

That’s good enough for you.

**Author's Note:**

> Holy crap what did I do to deserve this flawless perfection drawn by Viral? a;skjkd  
> [WOW FANART](http://wingsonghalo.tumblr.com/post/43246089785/vantassentric-4le4fclover-and-then-one-day)


End file.
